The other day, a man who I have known for a long time made the observation that I am not naturally submissive. Not because I am ‘bad’ at submission, but because of who I am outside of the dynamic that he and I share. His ability to see me, outside of his own experience of me and beyond the dynamic that we have made me hungry for more of his thoughts on me. Of course I knew he was right.

The truth is that whilst I will submit and love being submissive,

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We also unpack the difference between infatuation, limerence and lasting love. We share stories about dating separately for the first time, navigating intense emotional connections with other partners, and learning how openness and honesty helped us move through those experiences together instead of apart. We talk about the “new relationship energy” that can feel all-consuming, the fears it can trigger, and why emotional transparency became so important for us.

More than anything, this conversation became an exploration of what love actually means.

Can loving another person threaten an existing relationship, or can it deepen your understanding of connection, choice and commitment?

Evolving Love Links:

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Friday 18th Sept - Sunday 20th Sept 2026

Yass Valley, New South Wales, Australia

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Whether you’re in a couple, throuple, or exploring solo, this retreat is for you.

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We talk about the difference between healthy admiration and narcissistic validation, why modern social media increasingly rewards performative vulnerability, and whether non-monogamy exposes narcissism more clearly… or simply gets blamed for dynamics that exist everywhere.

Evolving Love Links:

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Evolving Love Retreat

Friday 18th Sept - Sunday 20th Sept 2026

Yass Valley, New South Wales, Australia

In 2026, the Evolving Love Retreat opens to all.

Whether you’re in a couple, throuple, or exploring solo, this retreat is for you.

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The judgement of me being non-monogamous bores me.

I have even come to expect it. It is the judgement or social ostracism that I have felt in other aspects of my life that I am more interested in.

Last night Liam and I took our son to a lecture called ‘Should portraiture be a competition?’ at the National Portrait Gallery of Australia, held by one of the judges from ABC’s Australian Portrait Artist Of The Year - Robert Wellington. Our son was bringing the age demographic down by decades, and I couldn’t help but notice that Liam and I were too. Which begs the question- where are the younger people?

Why are younger people not hungry to attend this type of discussion?

Watching a reality tv show that judged art sparked many conversations in our family that explored the intentions and ethics of this central question. If we are all unique and individual, should we ever compare ourselves to one another?

Whilst we can calmly state with a gentle smile, that we are all unique, there can be a very human urge to indulge in competition. Whether or not we believe that art should be competitive, there is no denying that competitions get bums on seats and people in galleries. After all, we all want to see who the winner was and dissect why they should, or should not have won.

So what is the ultimate expression of creative success? And what about comparisons in the world of non-monogamy? Or friendships in general? Even if we understand on an intellectual level that we should never compare ourselves to one another, when it comes to metamours, or the lovers of our lover, it can be quite normal that comparisons come up.

I was recently judged online again after we appeared on a national TV show, “Insight” on SBS. But the truth is that I have no concern when being judged by the masses in this way. Their judgement is not about me personally, it is more about how hearing about non-monogamy makes them feel in that very moment. The people who leave me horrible comments do not know me, therefore their comments are not actually about me at all. The comments are about their perception of me through their own perspectives.

Like the participants on ABC Portrait Artist of the year, whenever we are on national TV, we knew that there will be judgement. If I couldn’t handle being judged or criticised, I wouldn’t have gone on national TV to speak about compersion and why we chose not to conform to monogamy.

People can enjoy judging someone who is doing well, especially in Australia where Tall Poppy syndrome is incredibly real. Punching up is common place. Australians love an underdog, or an ‘up and comer’. We love those who are ‘giving it a crack’. But what about those who don’t just give it a go- but actually find inner and external success from their hard work? In Australia, that is when people can go silent. Friends will easily show up when times are challenging, but when things are going well… crickets. Silence.

Tall Poppy in Australia is fuelled by a belief that since we are such a small country, there are not enough opportunities to go around for everyone. People hold onto their spaces tightly - highly threatened by who else is in that space. Tall Poppy is a shameful aspect of Australian culture, and so I was glad to hear another speaker talk about it on Insight SBS. Being from Brazil, where there was massive support for members of the community when they did well, she was shocked by the Tall Poppy culture here in Australia.

So what does Tall Poppy syndrome look like?

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It isn’t always negative words, but it can present as silence or friends stepping away. Invites and contact can cease. Jealousy and punishment for a friend’s success can live in the subtle, social ostracism.

To me, the show of a genuine friendship, is when your friends are not only there for you in the bad times, but they are there for you in the good times. There is a mutual celebration of one another. They sing your praises when you are not in the room. And if your success is painful to them, they can communicate that whilst not vanishing out of your life. My friend Amie Mcnee has written extensively on the reality that when we share our creativity with the world, it can be a reminder to those around us that they have not shared their own creativity, and that can be painful.

It is a human instinct to step away from pain, and so stepping away from people who shine bright is understandable. Feelings of ‘why them and not me’ can be felt.

I’ve had many of my own experiences with Tall Poppy syndrome, from different perspective and sides of the story. One of the biggest regrets of my life is that I did not attend the honours recitals of my friends from university.

Watching them shine was too painful for me to witness as I wished that I was also in my honours year. My own pain stopped me from showing up and supporting my friends.

Celebrating their success was a mirror of my own difficulties at the time, and I couldn’t get past myself to celebrate their hard work and success. But what I did do was own my insecurity and communicate that with them. Yet even so, I was still too self-centred and caught up with my own creative grief to celebrate those who I loved. When I hear of Tall Poppy in friendships, I believe that this is the pain that rots at it’s core.

Having been on many sides of differing experiences is what helps to make things less personally painful when I am on the other rejection side of this friendship exchange. And over the years, especially since writing and podcasting and achieving what it was that I wanted to achieve which was to help normalise non-monogamy, I have had people quite literally vanish out of my life.

Not because of a judgement with non-monogamy, but because I took the step to actually make something.

Not because I think of myself as a great writer, but because I was actually brave enough to not only write, but to share it with the world. People can be terrified to share their personal experiences and perspectives with the world, but have no problem with being an armchair expert in the comfort of their living room and echo chambers. It is safe to bitch, triangulate, and feel better than someone from the safety of our inner circle. But it isn’t ultimately rewarding.

At its core, it is rotten.

Some years ago I was friends with a writer. A woman whose experience and writing I had immense respect for. A woman who I believe to be a much stronger writer than myself, a true writer’s writer. She began a Substack a year or so after I started mine, and shared some incredible essays, essays that pulled me right into the breath and heartbeat of the experiences and people that she wrote about. I looked up to her as a writer.

But not long after starting her Substack - she stopped.

And so did our friendship.

There may have been other reasons why she no longer pursued a friendship with me, but a part of me wonders if it was my fierce motivation to continue on with sharing my writing was a painful mirror for her. I might not ever know, but I can only pull from my own life experiences as to why? Why did she let me go?

Whilst I understand that it is brave to live my truth and be open about being non-monogamous, the far braver thing that I have done was to start my substack back in 2022, before everyone had a substack and share my writing with anyone who wanted to read it. To actually share my own words is so brave, and I am so proud of myself for that. Of course there are stronger writers than me out there in the world, but the truth is that not everyone has the bravery to actually share what they write and create. Or if they do, they only share a handful times, before becoming disillusioned with the reality that consistency and hard work, even in the face of silence- is necessary to the creative experience.

The reality of being an artist or a writer who chooses to share their gifts with the world is that sometimes you will share something that you put hours and hours into, and you will get no acknowledgement of your work at all. I have personally had this experience many times, I have shared something that I was so proud of, only to receive a handful of likes. I have experienced that creative rejection, wondering if anyone even took the time to read it. But this in itself is part of the process. This is the turning point that weeds out the brave creatives from the ones who are actually too caught up on external validation. Giving it another go after nothing but silence is truly one of the bravest steps a creative can ever make.

Anyone can build up the courage to start something, but I have immense respect for those who stay with it, even when the hyper fixation has worn off. It is so much easier to pursue a new project in the early days when it flows with ease and we are surrounded by our cheerleading friends who are supporting us for ‘giving it a go’. The truth is that anyone can start anything. Especially these days, with Ai. But can people actually stick to something, especially in a time where our attention spans are being eaten away by fast moving reels. Time will tell.

As time goes by, I am less drawn to those who are starting something and am more interested in those who have been chugging along, for years at their practice. I am interested in their stories of how success impacted them in both positive and negative ways. Last year I met a woman at a retreat in the northern rivers who had achieved massive financial success on a global scale from her creativity. Whilst she has an incredible life, she shared with me that the reality of achieving her dreams meant losing many relationships, because those around her could not celebrate her. There was an undercurrent of resentment from those around her, probably with the belief that it could, or should have been them… why her?

To me, I know why she has done well on a scale that most people could never even dream of being possible. She stuck with her dream and believed in herself, and as a result, the opportunities unfolded for her. There are many reasons for why people ‘make it’, but I believe that sticking to your practice is at the core. Why should anyone believe in someone who isn’t grinding and giving it their absolute best?

This is what weeds out the truly devoted from those who are ultimately motivated by money and validation. To be a creative is to be rejected endless times. But to create anyway. It is to write an article that gets no likes - but to step up out of our embarrassment and write again next time. It is to know that every successful creative has had rejections and pains and moments of disbelief, but that they got over themselves and created again regardless. Because they need to. Because they are creatives. Because ultimately, it needs to be about the creation and not the external validation, which may or may not come.

Continuing to create - whether or not you ‘make it’, is the sign of a truly successful creative.

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We break it down into three parts, first looking at the reasons you probably shouldn’t open your relationship, signs you might be ready to start exploring, and finally we share what it feels like when you are ready to start exploring non-monogamy.

We explore the red flags, the green lights, and the deeper questions that reveal whether opening your relationship will expand your connection or expose what’s already not working.

Evolving Love Links:

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Friday 18th Sept - Sunday 20th Sept 2026

Yass Valley, New South Wales, Australia

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Today’s conversation is deeply personal for us and one that features a unique, open-minded and compassionate perspective from our guest.

We’re joined by Dr. Sandra Webster, an educational leader, former school principal across three different countries, and more recently the author of the book “Creating Family-School Partnerships”.

In this conversation, we explore what true inclusion looks like for families who don’t fit the traditional mould, how schools can better understand the reality of diverse home lives, and why partnership between parents and educators is essential.

We also dive into power, communication, and what it takes to create environments where every child and every family feel like they genuinely belong.

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In this episode, we reflect on what it has been like to take our relationship into the public eye after appearing on SBS’s Insight, where we spoke about jealousy, envy, and compersion. What followed was a flood of online commentary, much of it critical. We unpack what it feels like to have our relationship reduced to a two-minute clip and judged at scale, and we explore why people feel so certain in their opinions about something they don’t fully understand.

We explore how judgment is a natural human response, but how the way it’s expressed matters, and how much of what people say is actually a reflection of their own fears, experiences, or conditioning around relationships. We also share how we each process criticism differently, one of us feeling largely unaffected, the other needing to work through it more consciously. Through it all, we come back to what grounds us, our relationship, our values, and our sense of self, and why continuing to have these conversations publicly still feels important, even when it invites criticism.

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Friday 18th Sept - Sunday 20th Sept 2026

Yass Valley, New South Wales, Australia

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Whether you’re in a couple, throuple, or exploring solo, this retreat is for you.

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To be safely judged at a distance by strangers, is a worthy cost for living the life that I choose to live. In fact- it is this very judgement that satiates the rebel within me.

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The waiter shoots me a look of curiosity from across the bar as he pours our drinks. His curiosity pulls my lower back in as I sit up straight, suddenly aware of the jigsaw puzzle that he is piecing together in his mind.

He has me figured out. He recognised me. His look of curiosity momentarily flashes to one of judgement. A self conscious need to correct his assumptions comes over me, not for my sake, but for the sake of my husband.

Perhaps he thinks that we have broken up, and that I have wasted no time at all with ‘getting back out there’. But from the raise of his brows, I can only assume that he believes that I am having an affair. I look back at my lover, taking his hand, conscious to not let him see my momentary distraction in how the waitstaff are perceiving me.

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Looking at the tables around me, I wonder what they might think if they knew that I was married. They being the other patrons, people who I don’t even know. Would they all freeze at the same time and shake their heads at me like one collective mass of disappointment if they knew that I was married to someone else? Or is society now at the point where non-monogamy no longer raises an eyebrow? Is it still something to throw shade or judgement at? A part of me hopes so.

The parts of non-monogamy that cause me anxiety are also some of my favourite aspects of non-monogamy. To not be judged, in one way or another, would mean that I am living a socially accepted life, which doesn’t hit the same for me.

I like the strangeness of non-monogamy. I enjoy the weirdness of it - the taboo. The element of ‘wrong’ is what makes it feel so right for me. Yet, to live a life that is slightly ‘wrong’, I must sometimes drink the drinks from the bartender that can be bitter- not just from ingredients- but from an uninformed judgement.

Being at ease with the discomfort of being judged, is liberating. To rise up above it is part of the deepening into who I am and the deep acceptance that I have for myself. But being ok with another’s judgement, is not a permission slip for someone to be outwardly rude to me or my family. There is a difference. In this society, it is the reigning in of our judgements that allows for our differing beliefs to coexist in an attempt for harmony.

I am not free from judging others. I am not a saint, and of course I find myself having moments of judgement too. Not with ill intent, or in ways that are always symbolic of my own insecurities- but in the simplicity of witnessing others and making an internal evaluation of the situation. An example of my judgement is my dislike for people posting their children on their public social media pages, or using their children to promote their business in anyway that identifies the children. I don’t agree with it and I do judge a parent’s choice to do this. But it is not my place to be rude or call these people out. What they are doing might not even be ‘wrong’. It’s just not something that I agree with, and so when I see it, I have a moment of judging that specific choice. My judgement doesn’t trigger a part of me where I long to post photos of my child all over the internet and I am ‘projecting’ as a result. It’s just a straight up, difference in values. Can I still be friends with people who post their kids online? Sure. Are they still great parents? Yes. Do I need to agree with all of their choices? No.

Another judgement that comes up for me is when women are professional doulas or birth workers/ coaches but are yet to have a baby themselves. Every time I see this- I cringe. Not because I don’t think that the work is valid, but from my perspective- they are missing the key piece of life experience needed to support another woman through that experience- the transformational experience of birth itself. My judgement here feels very specific for doulas and birth coaches, not trained midwives or doctors. To me, the doula work is different. It is often the emotional support that they are offering, yet to me it is like someone guiding and hosting a psychedelic retreat in Peru who has never themselves touched psychedelics…

Lived experience, walking the path, speaking from a place of personal insight holds a lot of weight. When I was with my doula in my birthings hours, I pulled on her strength and believed her words, ‘I know what you are going through. I too have been in exactly where you are. You have got this. I believe in you.’ Her empathy, understanding and strength fuelled me as she had been through this life changing initiation herself. Her words steered my inner voice and gave me comfort, whilst my midwife held my physical safety.

Like jealousy, I try to interrogate my judgements and not take them as facts. They are my personal opinions that are mouldable and not fixed. They are also not an excuse to be cruel or project onto others, causing unnecessary conflict, they just are what they are and they are also subject to change.

The bartender can judge me all he likes. And I am allowed to feel an unease and even a rush of excitement from his judgement. If anything - his judgement is a safe, invisible wall that I consciously dismiss, allowing me to relish in the taboo from the choices that I make.

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Yass Valley, New South Wales, Australia

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Today’s conversation opens up a wider reflection on modern gender discourse and and whether some narratives unintentionally deepen the divide between men and women rather than bringing them together. We explore what it means to hold space for the realities of inequality while still imagining a future where men and women move forward in partnership rather than opposition, and discuss Married At First Sight, dating culture and explore the concept of arranged marriage.

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Evolving Love Retreat

Friday 18th Sept - Sunday 20th Sept 2026

Yass Valley, New South Wales, Australia

In 2026, the Evolving Love Retreat opens to all.

Whether you’re in a couple, throuple, or exploring solo, this retreat is for you.

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Dear paid subscribers,

Today I am sharing in a slightly different style. It is a look into my diary and what is bubbling around in my mind and heart at the moment.

First thought - on lovers coming and going.

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In today’s episode we sit down with Fer from the Polycurious Podcast to unpack a story that began with a first date in New York and unfolded into a powerful lesson about jealousy, veto power, honesty, and growth.

We share openly about the moment Abbey felt triggered when Liam and Fer connected, how unspoken feelings led to a quiet veto, and what it took to circle back a year later with truth and repair. It’s a vulnerable look at what really happens inside non-monogamous relationships when values and emotions collide.

We also dive into Fer’s “Mono-Poly” relationship with her now fiancé Seth, a one-sided open relationship where she is non-monogamous and he is monogamous. From pacing opening up intentionally, to navigating jealousy without shame, to redefining compersion and “don’t ask, don’t tell,” this episode explores what relationship by design truly looks like.

Fer’s Links:

Instagram | Website | Polycurious Podcast w/ Seth

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Friday 18th Sept - Sunday 20th Sept 2026

Yass Valley, New South Wales, Australia

In 2026, the Evolving Love Retreat opens to all.

Whether you’re in a couple, throuple, or exploring solo, this retreat is for you.

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There is an ignorant assumption that I must have a damaged relationship with my father.

Some people can be quick to assume that I am non-monogamous as a result of this imaginary damaged relationship.

Did I not get enough hugs as a child?

Am I looking for my dad in the men who I date?

Are non-monogamous people on an endless quest for the validation they never received when they were Children?

People who don’t understand non-monogamy can jump to reasons of childhood wounding as to why a person would choose to be non-monogamous. Surely something, somewhere, went wrong?

The truth is my dad and I are incredibly close. We always have been. During my teen years I wasn’t overly interested in spending too much time with him, but only because at that tender age I preferred to be in the company of my friends.

I am fortunate that my father has always been there for me, and not just in surface ways. He gives me advice when I ask for it, and meets me during times of difficulty, sharing from his own personal learnings. We have deep, philosophical conversations until late at night and have always shared a sense of humour and many in-jokes between us.

My dad is a deep dude. A big picture thinker. A curious person. Spiritual - in a natural, humble way. A rebel to his own upbringing.

My dad jokingly refers to himself as a ‘recovering Catholic’. Recovering from the cruel nuns who caned his hands when he tripped over his words due to his undiagnosed dyslexia. He was raised on purity culture rhetoric and was told that masturbation would make hair grow on his palms. Heaven and Hell were his options for the afterlife.

By the time my father was a teenager, he had dropped his belief in man-made religion, and instead chose to worship in the music of musicians whom he loved. Pink Floyd, The Beatles, Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Jimi Hendrix, Cat Stevens, Jimmy Page, Neil Young, and others of that era spoke a spiritual language that drew my father in more than Catholicism ever had.

My father is a radically authentic person who does not hold a fake bone in his body. He is himself, always. Seeing him be himself has always been a gift to me.

Much to my father’s disapproval, I was christened a Catholic when I was a baby. My father refused to attend my christening, causing disappointment within his own family. When I look at the photos of my christening, I am proud of my father’s absence. I can also understand why my mother chose to have me christened. She was twenty four at the time and simply wanted to make a good impression with the in-laws. To her, there was no harm in having me christened.

Despite my father’s upbringing, he has created his own life. He is driven and hardworking and has perspective and a clear vision of what matters the most to him. His family. Time in nature. Reading. Reflecting. Rituals. Art. Humour. Connecting with animals. Caring for the environment. Helping people in anyway that he can, purely for their sake- not for a pat on the back. When I was 9, I remember my dad saying that it is always important to help people whenever, and in anyways that you can. But once you do, you stay quiet about it. Those who publicly pat themselves on the back after helping others can have questionable intentions. Would they be generous and kind if they had nobody to speak to after their moment of generosity? His strong example is why I cringe at empty virtual signalling.

When I read nasty comments from strangers online saying that my father must be ashamed of me, I genuinely have to stop myself from laughing. My father is deeply proud of me for having my own mind, and is a huge supporter of how I love, and my life and parenting choices. He truly knows us and sees us for who we are, not for how society might prefer for us to be.

When I told my dad that Liam and I were open, he smiled and said, ‘Well- you have always known your own mind. And that is something that I love about you.’

He cares about how we are going, and has met different partners of ours at social gatherings over the years. I often receive messages from my dad telling me that he just finished listening to an episode of our podcast and that he absolutely loved it. Being my father, he is more interested in our episodes where we interview other people, or when we discuss a topic about non-monogamy in more general terms. He turns it off if he feels that it is not a conversation that we would bring up with him over dinner, which I totally understand and appreciate. My dad doesn’t need to know everything to be a supportive parent. And at the end of the day- no matter how open minded my dad is- he is still my dad and I am still his daughter. He can be supportive without knowing absolutely everything.

Whilst I often turn to my dad for life advice, when it comes to non-monogamy, I seek advice or wisdom from other people in my life. Not because he couldn’t handle it, but because he doesn’t need to. I have no interest in causing him any unnecessary stress. My father is deeply attached to Liam and me as a couple and he wouldn’t want anything or anyone to get in the way of our relationship. He is also a very monogamous person, and doesn’t bring any lived experience to those conversations. Yet, even though he is monogamous, he has strong emotional intelligence and sees that non-monogamy is not something that threatens mine and Liam’s bond.

I don’t know if my father had envisioned that his one and only child, would not be able to conform to a life of monogamy, but I know that he is not surprised that Liam and I have carved our own path. My dad unpacked his Catholicism as a teenager, and as a result he raised me to question the norms around me.

By being the rebel in his family, he gave me permission to be a rebel too. He also gave me permission to be ok with people’s disagreement in who I am. He gave me permission to drop the need to please everyone at the cost of my own sense of self.

My dad is deeply proud of me, and I am proud of him. It wouldn’t matter if I was gay or straight, or poly or non-binary. As long as I am safe. As long as I am happy. As long as I am a good, kind person who prioritises my family and lives a life with a strong, internal ethical compass.

So no, my dad is not ashamed of me. He is proud beyond belief.

When I reflect on my journey this far, I know it is his pride and unconditional love for me that holds space for the way I choose to live and love.

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Friday 18th Sept - Sunday 20th Sept 2026

Yass Valley, New South Wales, Australia

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Today we are joined by the “Peri Godmother”, Australian TV Journalist Shelly Horton who has written the book “I’m Your Peri Godmother: A happily ever after guide to kicking perimenopause in the ovaries.”

With a 30+ year media career spanning ABC, Channel Seven, Fairfax Media and ET America, Shelly has appeared weekly on Channel Nine’s TODAY and TODAY EXTRA for over a decade and is also the founder of ShellShocked Media.

In this episode Shelly shares deeply from her own experience with peri. It is humorous, at times heartbreaking, uplifting and a conversation that we all need to be having.

Shelly Horton’s Links:

Instagram | Website | Shelly’s Book

In a few months I turn 38, or ‘pushing 40’ as my mother said to me recently.

This isn’t an insult to me, it is truth. Ageing is not frightening to me. When my brown hair began to turn grey at the age of sixteen, I started to foil it blonde to make the regrowth less noticeable. During Covid, in 2020, I stopped colouring my hair altogether, allowing for my silver strands to grow free and become part of my look. But alongside these surface level signs of ageing, there are real shifts happening deep within us all.

Whilst I am not yet in perimenopause, I am aware that it will be knocking on my door soon. I don’t have any major physiological symptoms, but I can already feel subtle changes within my emotional myself. People pleasing is dropping. Intuition seems to be sharpening, accompanied by periods of brain fog. Any self conscious defaults that I have had, seem to be slipping further away. I feel like I am deepening into myself whilst also not feeling quite like myself anymore. Symptoms of change are slowly emerging.

As someone who writes about relationships through the lens of non-monogamy, what do these hormonal changes have to do with relationships or non-monogamy? To me, they have everything to do with almost every aspect of my life- especially my marriage and relationships.

In my experience, the biggest element that weighs in on, and impacts my marriage isn’t non-monogamy, or jealousy, or shared parenthood. It has always been my hormones and the veil that they cast over my ever shifting perspective. How something lands on me one week, could land on me very differently the week after. The intersection of relationships and hormonal health is an ever evolving dance.

When people make vows to one another, promising to stand together through the ‘good times and bad’, what does that actually mean? I always wonder what comes to mind for people? When young couples marry in their twenties, do they have any awareness as to the real changes that can happen throughout the course of their marriage?

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Many women have limited understanding of perimenopause until they find themselves blindly wading deeper into new hormonal waters without proper support or understanding.

All of a sudden they feel off, depressed, disconnected, and with a need to overhaul their entire life. Sometimes the overhaul is needed, but I often wonder if at other times it might be from complete internal overwhelm.

A few months ago I found myself in conversation with a man who was shocked to hear that Liam and I plan our life, to the best of our ability, around my hormonal cycle. “But you can’t plan your life around your feelings?” He said, genuinely confused by the impracticality of our choice. Of course we cannot plan our entire life around my cycle, but we do what we can, and for us, it makes the world of difference. Being aware of energy levels, social capacity, need for quiet time with no unnecessary opportunities for conflict or distress makes our relationship a more peaceful experience.

When we were in the wedding season during our twenties, and the Calendar was filled with weddings, there was always talk of rings and venues and romance and proposals. Nobody ever brought up perimenopause, or what to do if one person feels tempted to have an affair. Everything was always focussed on the romance, the love story, the parade of it all. Yet, years later, and perhaps right on schedule, many marriages begin to crumble.

Is it ‘til death do us part’, or ‘til peri doth arrive’ ?

For Liam and I, my hormones are not my issue. They are ‘our’ issue. It has always been Liam and I, with my hormones being an external factor that we both have to work with. Because to us, that is what sharing a life together means. Being in it together. As someone who suffers from PMDD (premenstrual dysphoric disorder), we do not blindly wade into post ovulation oestrogen drop. We sculpt our life to be slightly softer.

One of the many things that I love about my husband is in the way that he whole heartedly shows up for me, by showing up for himself. It’s in the way that he is proactive with his interest in me as a person and as a woman. He is curious about my internal experience, and is aware of the differences that we have. Liam, of his own accord, has tracked my hormone cycle for the last 14 years so as to help us both, because him doing so helps the health of our relationship. Managing my hormones is not something that I have to cope with alone.

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Last year Liam went to a talk on perimenopause so that HE could learn more about what was in store, for me and for us. He found out about it, and organised for himself to attend. In a room of 50-60 women, Liam was one of two men who attended.

When people express to me that they are interested in exploring non-monogamy, I am always interested in how invested they are in the bigger, unsexier aspects of their relationship and knowing one another. Yes there is growth in the sexual exploration, and a person can learn and expand and deepen in moments of excited curiosity, but only following pleasure ‘for growth’ can be like skipping dinner for dessert.

If a man wants to explore non-monogamy with his female partner but has no awareness of his partner’s hormones and the influence that they yield, it shows a lack of emotional intelligence. When viewing life, love and relationship as a living, breathing, cyclical, changing and deepening experience with knowledge of how hormones can sway and influence, then non-monogamy is something that can be held more safely within a relationship.

The difference between Liam and I exploring non-monogamy during my luteal phase and my follicular phase are wildly different. If we first opened up our relationship whilst I was luteal- we would still be monogamous to this day.

I am yet to be fully aware of what perimenopause has in store for me, but in the meantime Liam and I are doing all that we can to prepare and beware of the changes from an emotional and physiological viewpoint, together. Because to us- that’s what building a life with someone entails. Preparation without negative anticipation.

Choosing to not be naive and to look into the face of inevitable change is foundational to us, and the shared path of life that we are walking deeper into - together.

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We also explore the practical and emotional realities of these dynamics: how to talk to a partner about it, what makes someone a good Bull, where things can go wrong, and why communication, enthusiasm, and enthusiastic consent are non-negotiable.

Evolving Love Links:

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I watched as my boyfriend dove under the waves, turning to smile at me each time he came up for air, gesturing for me to join him. “In a moment”, I sang out to him as the cool breeze hit my face. I knew that I wouldn’t be joining him in the water. I also knew that this might be our last time away together.

I had been avoiding the inevitable that we were not compatible. I could feel that he experienced me in a vacuum of ‘us’, with my marriage buried somewhere. An abstract in the depths of his consciousness. I could no longer ignore this truth and I could feel him feigning his comfort even though he said the right things. It wasn’t about the words anymore, it was about what I knew in my body. He wanted me for himself, in a way that was going to leave him in pain. Even after all of the conversations about being on the same page- I knew that hurt would lay before us.

“Oh, come on- it’s beautiful.” He called out.

How did I get here? I wondered as I stood up, dusting the sand from my backside, gesturing that I was cold and wouldn’t be joining him. As he made his way out of the water towards me, I took a photo of him in my mind, forever capturing the face of a man who would soon live only in memories.

-

Something felt off.

Liam, my husband, tried to be supportive of our connection, but struggled to shake the feeling that there would be issues down the road. Whilst I rode the high of our new connection, I felt uneasy too. Not wanting to acknowledge my resistance, I allowed for my attraction to drown out my inner voice.

As warnings from my husband gently began to surface, I refused to recognise them.

“I really like the guy, but he isn’t non-monogamous. He is just wanting to explore this because he is into you. He doesn’t intuitively get any of this.’’ My husband would tell me.

“But he is doing so well AND he has another girlfriend now.” I said defiantly in defence of my boyfriend.

“No, Abbey. He has landed on his feet in this polyamorous situation because he is with you. If you were out of the picture, he would close his other relationship down almost immediately. I’m sure of it. And even though he technically has another partner, he seems to be monogamous in how he is with you. You are also not being your usual open self. It’s as if you are in two, separate, closed relationships.”

My husband was right. I had gently pulled away from my other pre-existing connections, and I wasn’t interested in exploring non-monogamous dynamics with my husband for fear of hurting my boyfriend’s feelings.

He was comfortable with me being with my husband, but not other lovers.

How did I get here?

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In today’s episode we talk about entering midlife without the stereotype of a meltdown. We explore nostalgia for past versions of ourselves, tenderness for who we’re becoming, and how aging changes desire, ambition, creativity, and intimacy. We talk about perimenopause, slowing down, recalibrating expectations, and what it means to grow older together without panic or denial.

Evolving Love Links:

Website | Instagram | Substack | Youtube

Resources From Episode:

Tangentially Speaking Podcast ft. Chris Ryan & Liam

From Strength To Strength - Arthur C. Brooks

Imperfects Podcast - Why Does Life Feel Harder at 40?

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My earliest sex education came from “The Blue Lagoon”, courtesy of my parents and Video Ezy. Even at the tender age of thirteen, I was aware of what they were doing. This was their way of starting the conversation, of giving me the talk. This generous gesture was their way of saying, your feelings and hormones are normal and natural.

I enjoyed the movie, but it was only one perspective of a relationship. Two people exploring their sexuality with a baby being born as the result of their lust. It never occurred to me to consider what might have happened if there were more people trapped on that isolated island with them. How would things have unfolded without the influences of religion, ingrained monogamy, slut shaming and all the rest? Would things have been so straight forward? Would the characters in the movie feel jealous if the sex that they had involved more than just one another? As a teenager emerging into womanhood I did not have these answers. I had never even thought to ask the question.

In 2004, I met Lucas at a friend’s party. I was 16 years old. We exchanged numbers on our Nokia 3310s and went to the movies a week later. Lucas was 6’4” with dark hair and light blue eyes. I fell in love with him, believing delusionally that we were meant to be together forever. He drove his mother’s white Honda Civic, which vibrated from the bass of the expensive stereo he had installed. Lucas was a few years older than me and already had experience with girls. His experience triggered both jealousy and pride within me, and I wondered where I stood compared to the other girls he had dated.

After telling my mum we were going to sleep together for the first time, she booked a doctor’s appointment for me to go on the pill. The next day, we were sitting in the doctor’s office as my mother confidently stated that I now had a boyfriend and the pill would be a good safety net. My cheeks flushed red as the female doctor asked me questions, ensuring I was aware that the pill wasn’t 100 percent accurate and didn’t protect against sexually transmitted infections. My mother smiled at the doctor, reassuring her that I was responsible and aware of these things. I felt supported.

After the appointment, my mum took me shopping at Bras’n’Things and bought me a satin dressing gown with matching red underwear and a scented candle. Embarrassment flooded me again as I stood at the cash register with the belief that the sales assistant must have known that I was about to ‘lose my virginity’.

As rain pounded down on the windscreen during the drive home, I turned to my mum, watching her concentrated face as she changed gears and navigated traffic, knowing that when she was younger, she was left to navigate almost everything on her own. She was giving me the care and protection that she never had when she was my age.

“Thanks for today. I don’t know how many of my other friends would have their mothers take them to the doctor, let alone buy them something new to wear.”

“It’s important. There isn’t anything that you can’t tell me.”

I thought of my seventh day adventist friend, Megan, who was saving her virginity for her future husband. Megan’s mother would never have done this. Her only sex education was receiving a purity ring from her father which symbolized a vow of abstinence and commitment to him until the day she was to be married. I shuddered at the thought of wearing a ring like that from my own father. A ring that symbolized his ownership over my sexual expression. There was something incestuous about it.

The gravity of the outing continued to dawn on me, as my mum launched into the talk.

When you and Lucas decide on the right moment, perhaps you could put some nice music on. These things help. He should have a condom, but in case he doesn’t, I have some for you to take. If he says that he doesn’t want to wear it, then you should tell him that you don’t want to have sex with him. He really has to wear one, even if he says it’s uncomfortable. Remember, the pill is only a protection from pregnancy, not from other things like the doctor said. There is also something else that I want you to know. If you two break up, everything will be ok. You won’t have lost a part of yourself just because you have had sex. You are still you, completely. You also don’t need to tell your friends about this, it’s ok to keep it for yourself. These things can stay private, sometimes girls can be mean about these types of things, and you don’t want everyone knowing your business.

My well intentioned mother was trying to be helpful, but my love for Lucas was different. She didn’t understand the depths of our love.

A month later we slept together for the first time.

A week after that, he vanished from my life, without a word, refusing to answer my calls.

He avoided me even in chance encounters at the Woden Shopping Centre some months later. Whenever I heard Kiss From A Rose by Seal, I would be thrown back into my memories from the first time that we slept together. How my body ached as he pressed himself inside of me. His face buried into the pillow next to my head which allowed me to wipe the tears away without him witnessing them. I didn’t want him to see that I was in pain. I didn’t want him to feel bad about it. Surely this was just us getting used to sex together. I believed that Lucas and I had the rest of our lives to get it right.

The heartache from Lucas’ sudden rejection of me felt like knives cutting through my heart, compiled with my frustration that my mother was right. She barely blinked an eyelid when I told her that I hadn’t heard from him, she simply opened her arms and held me as I wept, unsurprised that he had disappeared with no explanation. I knew this would happen, lingered in the air around us, even though my mother mercifully stayed silent.

-

During my second year of university, I found myself parked outside a hotel in Canberra’s CBD. I stared down at an email thread on my phone from David, a charismatic and attractive visiting lecturer from Los Angeles in his mid-forties. His smooth American accent sounded as if it belonged to a famous Hollywood actor. Earlier that day, after sharing stories of his life as a creative in LA, he had asked for everyone’s email addresses. My initial confusion about this request became clear when he later emailed me and invited me for a drink in his hotel room.

I wondered what I had done to embolden him to approach me this way. Was it my behavior? What was my role in this? I felt guilty, believing I must have done something to give him the confidence to make this pass at me. The power dynamic between us was undeniable: he was the revered visiting lecturer, and I was the second-year university student. Yet, I couldn’t deny that his advances made me attracted to him. His arrogant confidence was both infuriating and arousing.

“Thanks for the invitation but I have a boyfriend.” I had spent an hour wrestling with this reply, confused by the appropriateness of any correspondence and a growing arousal.

“I didn’t ask you if you had a boyfriend. I asked you if you wanted to come to my hotel for a drink tonight.”

This was clearly not the first time he had dropped his moral compass, and with his mixture of confidence and charisma, he almost succeeded. Sitting in my car, I imagined him in the plush hotel room, toying with the emotions of his younger student, checking his email for my reply in between sips of whiskey.

I thought of my boyfriend Dean, and his warm doting smile. Dean and I had been together for six years. He was kind and respectful. Far removed from David. Feeling sick in my stomach at the thought of David, completely unaware of where I was and what I was considering, I put my Daihatsu Charade into reverse and drove home.

Anger and confusion took over me as I drove home with shame and rage flooding me. Even though nothing happened, I carried the guilt of an infidelity with me. Knowing that Dean was in the dark, never aware of any of this felt just as bad and undignified as if I had spent the night in that hotel room. I had almost blown everything up.

Sitting down in the lecture hall the next morning, I was instantly aware of David’s presence as he entered the room. His usual attentiveness and eye contact with me had disappeared. From being wanted to being invisible.

-

After Lucas had vanished from my life, I soon met Dean. From an outside perspective, our five year age gap seemed significant, but to us, it felt right. My mum cried and begged me not to date him, upset that I was risking another heartbreak so soon after Lucas. Yet, my mind was made up, and over time, our relationship became accepted and normalized. He wasn’t my first boyfriend, but the seven years we spent together were fundamental to who I became. Driving around in his convertible jeep, I felt safe and protected by him, but the naivety of our love clouded the truths of our incompatibilities. His interests in hunting and hyper-masculine activities starkly contrasted with my love for classical music, opera, and art.

As is often the case in many heterosexual relationships, he absorbed me into his world more than I absorbed him into mine. He was the stronger force between us, simply by being himself. I spent many Friday evenings making bullets for him in his bullet press while he sat by my side, crafting his own rifles for hunting trips. I appreciated his rugged, capable, and masculine approach to the world, as beneath it all, he was a deeply kind, safe, and caring man.

By age nineteen, I started to realize that if Dean and I stayed together, married, and had a family, he would be my last ever intimate, sexual, and romantic experience. While our relationship was “good” in many ways, I couldn’t deny a restlessness inside of me. Something about it all felt unrealistic. How could we only ever be with each other, forever? One of us would surely need to break away eventually. Four years later, that person was me.

By my twenty second birthday, I had come to the realisation that Dean was not the one. Our relationship had become restless, and for me that was the beginning of the end. The end would come quickly and heartbreakingly.

After two years of being single, green juices, newfound veganism, and sunrise exercise, I began to have recurring dreams. In the vivid dreams I was standing before a man who was my partner in love and life. The man in my dreams was tall and slender, with long dark hair that fell softly to his shoulders. Whilst we never spoke in my dreams, the strength in our connection felt powerful. We were equals. I wasn’t younger or beholden to his preexisting knowledge or authority- we were an equal team.

My housemate Jessie giggled at me as I recounted my dreams to her over hot tea in the living room of our sharehouse. My eyes were wide as I described this man, unlike any I had ever met. We laughed as I half jokingly used the word ‘soulmate’ to describe him, all the while harbouring a secret belief that he was about to step out of my dream and into my life. There was a part of me that could feel him coming.

Some months later, I was volunteering at a regular concert series called “Acoustic Soup” at the Australian National University’s co-op. After all the soup had been served, I wrapped up my shift and found my seat next to Jessie in the audience. It was a full house that night, the venue heaving with university students and music lovers.

As the lights dimmed and the room went quiet, the next band took the stage. Without an introduction, and as the light fell across the musicians, they began to play. I was immediately taken by the lead singer as he stood, singing from the heart with his guitar in hand. I recognized him. I knew him.

It was Liam.

We had taken a class together at university some years before but had never spoken. In a large class he blended into the crowd, choosing to sit with his Jazz school friends, whilst I sat with the Classical school students.

Halfway through the band’s second set, Jessie leaned in and whispered to me.

“Abbey, I think he is staring at you?”

I smiled. And whispered back, “That’s him. The guy from my dreams. That’s the man I’m going to marry.”

I don’t know where the words came from. Jessie coughed as she tried not to laugh at the absurdity of my statement.

“I’m not kidding! That’s him.” I said again, making sure not to break her eye contact. I could feel Jessie’s eyes scanning the profile of my face, waiting for me to wink or give some kind of signal that, of course, I must be joking.

After the crowd applauded the last song, I watched Liam as he walked off stage with his band and packed away his guitar. A group of eager young women were quick to descend on him. From afar I witnessed his humble and grateful smiles, as they lavished him with compliments.

“Let’s go.” I said to Jessie, gesturing towards the door.

“What? You’re not going to speak to your soulmate?” She laughed with a teasing tone.

“I will… but not tonight.”

As we walked out into the cold autumn air of Canberra, I turned back to see him surrounded by the women, who were falling all over him. I didn’t feel threatened. I was enjoying that they were giving him praise. Watching them fangirl over him seemed to heighten my attraction to him, and seeing him stand in his own power after performing gave me a rush. He was desired, not just by me, and instead of feeling in competition by the attention that he was receiving, I felt validated in my own feelings.

The next morning I found myself looking through his facebook photos. Smiling photos with friends. Photos of him performing. Happy photos with his family. Two sisters. They all looked close. I could see that they were good people.

Hi Liam, I saw you perform last night. Your performance was beautiful. I just wanted to wish you good luck with your music and your future creative endeavours. Abbey x

Five minutes later he replied.

Hey Abbey, I thought it was you there in the audience. I wanted to say hi after the concert but you must have left soon after? I was looking out for you. Funny thing, one of the overhead lights was broken and was facing into the audience and right onto your face. Yours was the only face that I could see in the audience. What’s new with you? Are you still singing?

From those first messages the momentum felt instant. Days later we had our first date and if Liam was planning to leave a memorable impression on me… he achieved just that.

Edgars Inn was busy that night, and as soon as I arrived I immediately sensed his nerves. I should have known when he ordered a hot chocolate before I had a chance to order my wine, that Liam was not versed in the dating world. Quickly pivoting to a Peppermint tea, we settled into the evening. He shared with me that he had recently emerged from a three year relationship, where attending bars together was not common.

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Yet beyond his awkward date etiquette, the connection between us was palpable. My love of music and art resonated with him, and his open, curious view of the world deeply connected with me. Liam had nothing to prove; joy simply emanated from him. Having lived overseas in Oxford with his family when he was younger, a high achiever in the schools he attended, he also played classical cello, guitar, and piano. But his beautiful, unmistakable voice was the primary way he communicated his art. His passion for his musical craft was inspiring.

He inspired me.

—--

Jessie placed a book down on the table in front of me as I made my morning eggs. Just months after our relationship had begun, Liam and I were already falling madly in love.

“This is the book I was telling you about. I just finished it. One of the authors is coming to do a talk at The Festival Of Dangerous Ideas at the Sydney Opera House. You should read it. It’s all about how humans may not even be monogamous!”

I put down my coffee on the wooden bench and examined the book. “Oh wow- interesting. Sex At Dawn - that’s a great title” I mused, skeptical of the blurb that I proceeded to read on the back of the book.

“I know that you and Liam have only been together for a few months, but I thought that you might like it. It’s also quite funny.”

I smiled. It made sense to me that this author would have spoken at the Festival Of Dangerous Ideas. What exactly was he promoting here? Non-monogamy? Surely these types of relationships were not something that people were seriously interested in?

Unable to resist my curiosity I picked up the book later that evening. As I turned the pages of Sex at Dawn I could feel a sense of unease coming over me. I couldn’t help but think of Liam and our all- encompassing love. Our relationship was like nothing else that I had ever experienced. We understood one another in a way that felt different to any other relationship that I had ever experienced. We could talk about anything. Any dream. Any fear. Any insecurity. And yet here I was, reading a book that was saying that monogamy was a social construct and that humans may in fact be non-monogamous.

I didn’t want to be back where I was years before, questioning, Is this it? Is there perhaps another path, or relationship, or connection that might be in the future of my story?

I was happy.

Liam and I were happy.

Non-monogamy would surely mean chaos, jealousy and instability.

Were we really destined to be in the arms of others? I didn’t want that for us, and I didn’t want to spend any energy finding out.

If humans were non-monogamous, I didn’t want to know about it.

Consensual non-monogamy was not for couples like Liam and I.

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Pictured Above: Liam’s makeshift recording fort on the floor of our Airbnb two nights ago!

In our final episode of the year we discuss 2025 and some of our favourite podcast guests of the year, our plans for the New Year, the ethics of sending old selfies and so much more...

Here are links to the episodes mentioned in this episode:

See you in 2026!!